


Breadcrumbs

by aroundloafofbread



Series: Summoning [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Background - Freeform, Contracts, Demons, Gen, Hair Potion, Humor, Just additional stuff, Rituals, Shenanigans, Summoning, summoners
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2018-12-22 04:21:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11959611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aroundloafofbread/pseuds/aroundloafofbread
Summary: The extras of the Summoning series. A peek into the shenanigans of other characters and little events that do not make it into the main story.None of these are meant to be taken seriously.(As more short stories are added, more tags will be added to relationship, characters, etc.)





	1. Severus Makes A Hair Potion

**Author's Note:**

> The additional stuff you do not need to read but I post them anyways. Enjoy~!

Did he want this head of greasy hair? No of course not!

Did he deserve all this bullying because of his greasy hair? A resounding no!

It was just… the unfortunate side effect of being a genius at potions.

An absolute potions prodigy. Damn right! And because Severus was a genius at potions he would make a potion for his hair. He would be the one to single-handedly craft the world-changing potion that got rid of all unwanted hair grease and gunk. Brewing concoctions that actually made a difference to the lives of people. People who did not show even a smidgen of appreciation for the work others had put in.

But life would go on; potions would be made by the clever and sacrificial people, while Quidditch would be played by the stupid ones. And potions making would always be his raison d'etre.

And with this invention, all the potion masters in the world would thank him for giving them a lifeline in their failing romantic lives. 

After all, if Jerkass James Potter’s Fleabag father Fleamont could come up with a potion like Sleakeazy for that ridiculous nest the Potters called hair, then why couldn’t Severus make a degreasing hair potion?

It was with burning determination that Severus began working on this new task.

_____________________________________________________________________

A year later, at the tender age of 15, potions genius Severus Snape succeeded in his creation. Bullies never needed a good reason to make the lives of others miserable. This hair potion, Severus determined, was the push in the right direction. The catalyst to provide him the conviction that he was good enough, irregardless of what others said.

Tears rolled down his cheeks and he beheld his reflection in the mirror.

“Beautiful hair! I have such beautiful, silky hair!” the enchanted mirror shouted with great smugness.

_____________________________________________________________________

His luscious hair was now the object of envy at Hogwarts.  
Even his friend Lucius Malfoy, previously winner of the Most Beautiful Hogwarts Hair pageant, was badgering him for the secret to his new appearance. Severus had yet to reveal his potion to the masses, he held it greedily, tightly to his heart. He would savour this feeling and let the suspense build. Though he would release it to the market eventually, make lots of galleons, make more potions, and pursue his hidden dream of training in esoteric magic.

“It’s just a good hair day for me Lucius.” He replied.

Soft, thick, smooth, silky hair. He flipped it as he walked across the school grounds. The light strands of his hair lifted in the afternoon breeze. He was so excited to tell Lily about his new accomplishment.

He spied Pisspot Potter from the corner of his eye. The stupid boy and his boorish sidekicks had their jaws hanging open, gaping at Severus’ confident walk and new look. The rumours circulating the hallways suggested they had been getting flak for having ever picked on ‘that sensuous boy with the beautiful hair’. 

He had the perfect name for his hair potion.

Yes.

He would call it… Sev’emRight.


	2. My Name is Bartemius Crouch Jr

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Companion Piece to Chapter 4 at the **++** mark.

My name is Bartemius Crouch Jr., son of Bartemius Crouch, who is dead because I killed him. And that's a story you do not need to know.

For six centuries I have been one of the highest ranking members of the Demon Court, under the rule of the Supreme Overlord, Lord Voldemort.

And for centuries I have led battles and raids on villages for no reason than the fun of it. That is the life of a demon - to eat, to play, to fuck, to kill.

But recently, in the last two centuries, I have found a new hobby. You see, I am much desired as a guardian for I am undeniably powerful in my own right. And as more requests come my way, I am less inclined to ignore the ritual circles swimming about on the spreadsheet of the throne room.

Thus I had developed an obsession of accepting these ritual contracts. And for every contract, I have implemented the method of befuddling the minds of human beings, with words so meaningless as to appear clever and meaningful. Pages upon pages of complete garbage that the humans accept without condition, in a bid to appear agreeable. Sometimes they would try to read the utter bullshit I have written, nodding as they scan through the pages, as if they have seemingly understood. All it serves is to prove to me their stupidity.

If these mindless creatures had truly read through the contract, they would have seen multiple instances of my ingenuity. They have not. And so it is that many have agreed and bound themselves by blood magic to the statements of "I solemnly swear I am an idiot", "I sell my soul to Bartemius Crouch Jr.", "I have a massive arsehole" and "I belong entirely in soul, mind, body and magic to the Supreme Demon Overlord Voldemort".

The last statement has made my beloved master as happy as he can possibly be in the mindnumbing state of boredom that has struck him for some millenia now. At least it offers him some toys to play and break as he pleases.

In my impressive memory, there is but one human who has proved himself clever enough to bypass all the traps I have laid for him. His name is Severus Snape. In celebration of my being impressed at any one, much less a human, I delivered him to my master.

He remains the only known pupil of my master who has not turned his back on humankind to become a demon.

It is to him that my thoughts first turn to, as my master commands I learn more about the boy Harry Potter. As a professor of Hogwarts he must certainly have access to valuable information. Yet it is perhaps unwise. How would Severus react should he know that my master will soon attend the very school he teaches at?

And thus I will find the information my master seeks from my usual place in the shadows.

I look forward to the day I meet Harry Potter. I wonder if the boy will too fall for the usual tricks I employ on the summoners? I shall share my contract templates with my master.

Yes, indeed, I am sure he will appreciate it.


	3. Excuse Me? My Birthday Is Very Normal!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry's usually unusual birthday. Companion piece to Chapter 7.

“Happy birthday, Harry!” Ron and Hermione chorused.

Harry ducked his head while grinning. He would never get over the sort of attention they lavished on him during his birthdays. In this, he was the opposite of his father – James Potter would bask in all the attention and strut about with his chest puffed up.

The Room of Requirement was heavily decorated with red and gold streamers, plush chairs, a roaring fireplace and a table in the middle with a huge cake atop it. 

They were the only friends who knew when his birthday was. He preferred secrecy on this day because of the changes to his environment that took place and he did not wish to draw unwanted and unnecessary attention to his ‘condition’. He was mightily glad his friends respected his need for privacy on his birthdays.

Harry was usually home for his birthdays where Ron and Hermione, his parents, Sirius and Remus would celebrate it with him. A small but cozy affair. This time he was stuck at Hogwarts because of his fellowship training it was just Ron and Hermione today, but he also received gifts from his family.

His dad had sent him a new Quidditch maintenance kit, which Harry had opened immediately and worked on polishing his Firebolt in the morning. He also received a pranking toolkit from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes which he kept aside at his desk, certain that Ron would like to borrow it for his next prank on Malfoy.

His mum gave him a couple of useful books on potions (he was pretty sure Uncle Sev recommended those) and a pair of Topaz tulip cufflinks. After lovingly caressing the cool surface of the Topazes, he kept it in a secure part of his trunk where every little treasured gift he had received was stored.

Sirius gave him an ancient artifact called a ‘Fellytone’ which had an odd oblong shape and separate clunky piece that was connected by a spiral cord. It was surprisingly still intact and Harry could barely make out a few numbers in little even circle holes on the heavy metal main body. It was an impressive find that Sirius had scavenged in one of his treasure-hunting quests. 

Historians theorised that these artifacts used to belong to some wizard tribes but fell out of use with the more ‘useful’ inventions that summoners came up with. 

The other rival camp of historians refuted that by calling it ‘bullshit summoner propaganda’ and that it had in fact been invented by some uncreative summoners who were so ashamed of their useless tools that they buried them once Floo and Owl services became available. 

There was another camp, though much smaller and most controversial, which suggested that these were invented by muggles millennia ago. Though how muggles could have survived long enough to invent such items was anyone’s guess. Geographers were currently working to make sense of muggles’ lives in the distant past as some evidence surfaced to show that muggles did live for a much longer time thousands of years back.

Harry kept the ‘Fellytone’ in his trunk. Who knew? He might find some obscure use for it in the future.

He placed it next to the set of high quality dragonhide gloves Remus had given him. It would be really useful during the Quadsummoner Tournament, but the birthday boy knew not to flaunt the gloves in front of Malfoy or his guardian while at Hogwarts. He wouldn’t want to suffer premature injuries before the Tournament. 

Ron had given him more Honeydukes chocolate as usual. He had once strongly suspected this was more due to Ron’s lack of creativity in buying gifts than a desire to fatten Harry up. These suspicions were proven right when he found out that Ron gave Honeydukes chocolates to Hermione for her birthday as well, and wasn’t _that_ a precursor to a big fight between the two lovebirds. “So unromantic!” Hermione had shouted when she received her present last September.

Not that his bushy-haired friend was much better at selecting gifts though. She gave Harry even more books than his mum had, and they were the driest, most boring types of textbooks. Harry left them at Tom’s bedside, certain that his guardian would enjoy reading them.

“Thish ish really good,” Harry remarked through his mouthful of cake.

Ron nodded, too busy shoving cake into his mouth to reply.

Hermione looked at them disapprovingly, mouth twisted up in a moue of distaste.

“Will you be letting Tom know your birthday? I wonder how long you could hide your… situation from him.”

Harry frowned, his good mood quickly dissipating. He had no idea how to broach the topic yet, and he wasn’t sure it was prudent either. Tom was an astute fellow, he would likely sense the unusual miasmic behaviour around Harry on his birthday, even if Harry could successfully escape to do… ‘his thing’. For this reason, the raven-haired boy had dragged himself out of bed far earlier than Tom would usually wake in order to avoid any questions of why the air around him was charged with miasma.

He really did feel like a freak sometimes.

Their mini celebration ended quickly with the soured atmosphere, and Hermione managed to look a little apologetic for reminding Harry of his condition.

Harry walked out to the Black Lake once the trio had dispersed. He looked around quickly to ascertain that he was alone. Though at this time, Ron and Hermione were busy creating chaos in the Great Hall to ensure Harry would be left alone. For that, he was truly grateful.

He stepped forward slowly, breathing deeply. ‘It’ was beginning, as it did every year during the late evening on his birthdays, whether he wanted to or not. Harry was careful to ensure no one was around him to witness the ritual that would take place.

He could feel the magic thrumming within him, and the miasma around the lake responding. It did so not only on his birthdays, but to some lesser extent during the Solstices and Equinoxes as well, as if Magic itself was celebrating with him.

He recalled the conversation he and his friends had with Lucretia, who had all but confirmed that miasma was sentient. He was inclined to agree with her.

The miasma rose around him, circling and taking on a slight golden hue. Tiny pinpricks of light danced about him and he smiled softly as he watched them. Lifting his face to the sky, Harry closed his eyes and savoured the feeling of power coursing through him, as the miasma tethered itself to his fingertips, setting his nerves alight. He directed the miasma about him, like a conductor would his music, and felt as it swirled even more rapidly about his body. 

The tiny pinpricks of light swelled into crackling balls of energy before sinking into his skin, replenishing his magic and giving rise to a sense of profound elation. The miasma slowly swirled away, but still hung thicker around him than anywhere else along the lake.

Harry stood there until the sun sunk below the horizon, allowing the ozone smell that clung to his skin to slowly dissipate.


	4. Severus Visits A Healer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was written for @[CalmlessnesS](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CalmlessnesS/pseuds/CalmlessnesS/) and all the other readers who have been interested in Snape's background.  
> I've had the absolutely wonderful opportunity to speak to Alan Rickman (R.I.P.) and he was just amazing but also very strict and had a commanding presence. When he smiled though... 
> 
> I just wanted to write a Snape who could display characteristics similar to that. A Snape who would be just as stern and serious and even a little nasty as in canon, but when he smiled it lit up the room. Yea... so this current Snape was born...  
> Of course this Snape is less miserable than the canon one because obviously in this fic he's had the chance to build his self-confidence and Lily is still alive + his friend. This does not, I emphasise, make him a very lovely person, and it certainly does not make him a kind and patient teacher. He continues to prefer black, bat-like clothes.
> 
> p.s. I didn't really proofread this. Oops.

Severus Snape tapped on his chin thoughtfully as he sat in the waiting room of St. Mungos, waiting for his turn.

He wondered who Healer Cornish Yay was. An odd name to be certain. Unbelievably impressive credentials with a great number of recommendations from elite summoners, wizards and witches for someone who hadn’t been in the healing scene for more than two years.

When he’d gotten the namecard from Rosmerta, he faced an hour of her winking, simpering and unwanted manhandling before she relinquished the contact details. It didn’t help that Lily was laughing at him from the corner of the Three Broomsticks. He was very nearly tempted to leave without the namecard. 

“Professor Snape, Healer Yay is ready to see you now.” The nurse called out, batting her lashes at him in such a ridiculous manner that he considered telling her to seek treatment for myokymia.

Ever since he returned from his time at the Demon realm, rumours had been abound. The ladies became relentless in their pursuit of him, and so did the occasional man.

He rapped twice on the door before entering the healer’s office.

The door swung shut behind him and he stared at the healer seated in front of him, a large grin plastered on the latter’s face.

“General Corban Yaxley, elite Death Eater of the Demon kingdom. What are you doing here?” Snape intoned.

“Severus! Don’t be a stranger! Come ‘ere boy!” Yaxley crowed, spreading his arms wide for a hug.

Snape steadfastly ignored the man and sat down in the comfy patient’s chair next to the table.

Yaxley sniffed when he realised his affections were not to be reciprocated. 

“Healer Cornwall Yay. Really? That’s what you came up with?” Snape said, looking pointedly at the name plaque on the desk.

“Well, Yaxley right? **Y** - **A** -x-l-e- **Y**. Yay. Have you seen the names around here? I’ll fit right in with the humans. And, of course, Cornish for my favourite Cornish Pixies pasties.

Snape grimaced. Yaxley never ceased to be facetious sort. 

“Why are you posted here as a healer? Spying for his lordship? I do believe your specialisation was in politics and negotiation.” 

“You are not incorrect. I have always been gifted at healing though, if I say so myself, though I do not enjoy it. I am indeed here to gather information for our lord. Looking at St. Mungos cases and epidemiology can actually tell you a lot about what’s happening.”

“Hmm.”

“So tell me, what do you need today?”

Snape brushed back his silky hair to reveal the new scar on his right cheek. 

“A scar I sustained rather recently. Unfortunately it still itches, hurts at some points. I have yet to give it a proper check again but the inflammation is kept at bay with my potions.”

“Let me see.” Yaxley ordered, tilting Snape’s head and clinically tapping at the scar. “Acute pain or radiating pain?”

“Acute.”

“How often?”

“Once a week.”

“Hmm…” Yaxley picked up his wand and began casting a diagnosis charm. “Well, I’m glad to know you’ve taken our lord’s lessons to heart about caring for your physical and mental health. Don’t be shy about wanting to look good.” Yaxley grinned. 

“As long as the principle didn’t apply to his own lessons.” Snape scowled. “I was constantly balanced on a knife edge, between life and death, when training under him.”

“Can’t refute that!” Yaxley chortled. “You did well though. Bella and Barty were the only predecessors of yours who weren’t deceased after our lord’s personal training. The odds of survival are never good.”

“If that was meant to comfort me, your methods are appalling.”

“You can’t blame me for trying. Since you left, things have been boring.” Yaxley admitted while watching the diagnosis results ink itself onto a parchment. “Barty misses you dearly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he drops by Hogwarts eventually to visit.”

“I hope not. The school would be in an uproar.”

“What about you? Did you manage to get your girl in the end?”

Snape sighed. “No. Though it was not unexpected.”

“I suppose she wouldn’t have waited for you for four years.”

“She was married with a young child by the time I returned. Our friendship was rekindled and I’ve since been involved in the caring of the child too.”

“You sound fond of this child,” Yaxley noted, “Or as fond of children as someone like you could possibly be.”

“You try teaching the lot of dunderheads I deal with and then we’ll talk.” Snape sneered, before he noticed the frown on Yaxley’s face as the demon studied the parchment.

“What’s wrong with the scar?”

“There are still remnant toxins in it.”

“I cleared the toxins back when I was first injured. There should not be any left.” 

“You’re very sure?”

“Positive.”

“Mm. Was this inflicted by a monster?”

“Yes.”

“That may explain it. I’m glad you had the sense to get this checked. It could have festered and gotten worse. I’ll tell you this, since you and I have always been good friends, the monsters have shown signs of evolving.”

“I suspected as much in my recent investigations. I had not thought this to extend to their toxins. Is this what his lordship sent you to investigate?”

“Affirmative.”

“If his lordship is worried…”

“Mm.” Yaxley replied vaguely as he cleaned and removed the scar with esoteric miasmic techniques developed by the demons. 

Snape watched as the scar slowly but surely faded from his face. “You have my thanks.”

“No problem, good as new, kiddo.” Yaxley said, smacking Snape’s cheek affectionately and laughing when the dour man tried to shove him away.

“Well, I have an hour’s break now. Shall we head out for some firewhiskey?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Cornish Pasties](https://www.google.com.sg/search?q=cornwall+pasties&client=firefox-b&dcr=0&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjszrvA3sPYAhXFvo8KHfhTBzMQ_AUICigB&biw=1366&bih=656)  
>  Traditionally made with chicken/beef/pork/mushrooms, etc. But Yaxley is a nasty fella so he eats them Cornish Pixies Pasties style instead.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading my Summoning series!


End file.
